Counting Sheep
by dressed to the nines
Summary: Memory's a funny thing. It's like a computer; an intertwinable web of crowded storage and brimming thoughts that hold the most important data. But sometimes it can be erased. Wiped clean. The memories can be brought back, but like a computer: it takes someone special. Can he do it? Slight Crack!Fic. Humor if you stand on your head. *ON HIATUS*
1. Prologue

**Kim Crawford  
Seaford Highway  
December 17  
10:37 PM**

Flashes. I'm on my hands and knees moving across the gravel. I think I'm on a road. With each movement another flash sears across my brain. Memories of my life, my friends, my family.

Suddenly I have to stop. The pain of the light bolting across my vision immobilizes me.

_I'm Kim. Kim Crawford. My best friends are Rudy, Eddie, Milton, Jerry, and Jack. I live in Seaford with my mom and my dad._

When the flash is over I begin moving again.

My parents.

Where are my parents?

There's pain in my hands, the rough ground is causing blisters.

Another flash. I groan.

_My best friends are Jerry, Eddie, and . ._ .

Keep moving, I tell myself and find that my limbs obey.

My friends?

Who are my friends?

My jeans are torn and I'm bleeding. It's too dark outside to see where I'm going and I'm not sure where I came from.

_My name is Kim. Kim—?_

With each movement forward the flashes increase, and then dissipate into nothingness.

I'm forgetting.

I'm forgetting everything aren't I?

Inside I don't think I'm scared. Would you be scared when all you are certain of is your own existence?

I guess so.

But I'm not.

Though, now I can't seem remember my name anymore.

I keep moving forward because that is all I'm good for at that moment.

Soon my hands meet soft, cool ground. The feeling is soothing to my injured palms.

Are my arms shaking?

My head is pounding. My brain is being suffocated. Whatever happened to me, I definitely hit my head. I can even feel blood making my blonde hair stick together in stringy clumps.

Suddenly my left hand bumps into something hard. I stop and reach out to grope whatever it is. The surface is jagged and feels similar to concrete. I begin to maneuver around the rock that is rapidly turning out to be huge.  
The wind is strong and sharp. It must be nearly winter.

Has Christmas passsed?

Behind the rock it's warmer. The broad boulder blocks the wind.  
Regaining my body heat, I give in to my shaking arms and collapse.

I'm so tired.

Before my eyes close all the way there's one last flash across my vision.

_I'm Kim Crawford_.

And then I am no more.

* * *

**Jack Brewer  
Brewer Residence  
December 18  
7:19 AM**

This can't be true.  
This can't be true.  
This can't be true.

Words swirl around in my muddled mind, my thoughts are glaciers; slow moving ice. The paper in my hand is taught from me holding it so hard. Tiny crinkles begin forming around my clenched fingers. My knuckles are white.  
And then the grey sheets tear in half.  
For a moment I sit there staring at the space where the newspaper was once whole.  
Car crash. Two dead. Crawford.  
Crawford.  
Crawford.  
The last name burns into my heart and jump-starts my memories. Kim Crawford. Her and her family are the only ones with that last name in Seaford. They are the only ones that mean anything at all to me. Kim Crawford.

She said she was leaving to visit relatives in Tennessee. That was only yesterday. No. Not even.  
And now she's dead?

No.  
No.  
NO.

Almost as if I've been turned back on I jolt forward. My fingers are suddenly alive, trying to piece back the torn paper, trying to make the words match perfectly again. Trying to dissuade myself of the horrors written in tiny black ink.

Car crash. Two dead.  
Kim was with her mother and her father. Two dead. Three in the car. Someone must have escaped the wreckage. Someone must have _survived_.  
Finally the tears meet up with each other and fit perfectly. I crane my neck forward, my eyes move fast.

_Car crash on Seaford Highway located at 11:42 last night. The two found in the car were dead on scene. Signs show that there was a child; a girl with them but her whereabouts are unknown. Bodies identified as Karen Crawford and Joe Crawford_.

Her whereabouts are unknown. But she couldn't have gone that far! Who knows what injuries she could have acquired.

They must have searched the area, right?

They are more thorough than that. They _have to be_.

I just saw Kim yesterday and was fully aware she was traveling so far across the states to see her family for Christmas. They weren't even expecting them. It was going to be a surprise.

My hands are pressed against my temples, the only thing holding my head up. Those words. Horrid words. Reprimanding me for what I've done.  
More like what I didn't do.

I didn't even say good-bye, good-luck, Merry freaking Christmas.

All because of a _stupid_ fight.

And now I'm reading _this_?

No.  
No way.

I stare at the words.

I stare at them until my vision blurs, until my breath almost stops, until my world goes dark.

Car crash. Two dead. Crawford.

* * *

**A/N:**  
Welp. That was depressing. But it'll get lighter as the chapters go on. I'm aware that there is another story, several probably, that is similar to this plot. I thought of this idea as I was in my car along with several other chapters and so I assure you that it won't be exactly the same. I haven't read the other stories so forgive me if similarities are apparent. This is my first Kickin' It Fanfic that contains a solid plot other than AWFTP. I truly hope you liked this chapter. **PLEASE COMMENT. :D**


	2. The Third Year

**Ann McLean  
Stella Cadente  
December 17  
8:30 PM**

"Thank you for a lovely meal." he says, beginning to slide out of his booth.

"You're perfectly welcome Mr. Scidmoar. It's always a pleasure to see a regular at the restaurant during the holiday season. With everything becoming so hectic." I tell him happily and grab his jacket from the peg next to his seat. I touch his elbow and he allows me to help him out the rest of the way.

Together we walk toward the restaurant door where Otis is waiting patiently for his owner.

Mr. Scidmoar grabs the handle of his dog's harness and Otis is already leading him out the door that I'm holding open for him.

"Oh, Ann?" the middle-aged man pauses in the doorway to tip his head toward outside; a request to follow.

Letting the door close softly behind me I say, "Yes, Mr. Scidmoar?"

Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulls out an unmarked pink envelope and hands it in my general direction.

"You shouldn't have, honestly." I breathe.

There is no further response other than the shaking of the card.

I take it unwillingly and thank him.

"Would you like me to open it now or on Christmas?" I ask him politely.

"Now." he responds with an excited grin. His enthusiasm makes his face look young and his sightless green eyes sparkle.

Carefully, I slide my fingers under the fold of the hot pink envelope. The sound of the tearing paper fills the frigid air followed by the shuffling of the paper as I take the card out.

_Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas_: it reads on the front in a flourishing font coated with red glitter. The sparkles come off and onto my fingers as I glide them over the rough texture. When I open the card something falls out.

I expect it to fall to the ground but I suddenly feel my reflexes kick in and I swoop down to grab it.

"Skillful catch, Ms. Ann."

I look up in surprise. "Yeah," I breathe, "I'm not really sure where that came from."

"Maybe it was from your past." he says wisely.

Maybe.

I glance back down at the small object I had caught and see a gift card. Peering closer I decipher that it's a mall gift card for—

"Two hundred? That's crazy Mr. Scidmoar are you sure you want to give all of it to me?"

He laughs his deep laugh that makes him seem so much younger than he really is. "Of course I do. I know you'll put it to good use. Merry Christmas, Ann."

"Yes, Merry Christmas to you too." I move forward and take the kind man in front of me into a big hug.

A few minutes later I'm watching him being lead across the parking lot by the German-shepherd in front of him. "Be safe!" I call out.

"Don't worry, Ann. I will!" he replies, his voice shrinking as he continues to walk away into the distance.

I finally go back inside.

"Merry Christmas, Ann," customers exclaim as I pass through the restaurant. I wave to them with a smile and begin to pick up the plates on the tables I've waited.

The tips are larger than usual; in spirit of the holidays and I put them in the staff tip jar. I don't need so much. Besides, it's much more fun to give, right?

With a full stack of plates balanced dangerously within my arms I move gracefully into the kitchen and set them within the sink.

It's 8:30 in Stella Cadente, the Italian restaurant I work for, and the smells of all the food are slowly drifting away. Being that it closes in half an hour not many people are left leaving me little to do. So here I am with no apron and my good dress pants on washing tomato stained plates. This is the life.

Did you sense the sarcasm in that comment?

"Ann table five spilled their drink!"  
I look up from the dish I'm cleaning with a grin. "Table five left ten minutes ago, Josh. Don't fool the blonde!"

A beat later a boy with sandy colored hair and bright blue eyes sticks his head around the corner. His eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion.

"Since when did you have blonde hair?" he asks.

To this I pause and glance at a piece of my very _brown_ hair. I look back up at Josh, frowning.

I begin to open my mouth but a sudden flash blinds my eyes. My fingers find my temple as I'm suddenly seeing myself standing in a large square room with bright blue mats on the ground.

I'm wearing quite a cute red and white outfit; homage to candy canes despite it being mid-summer, and my blonde hair is cascading down my shoulders. There are three other people standing with me; all boys. My nose is scrunched up and my hand is waving back and forth. I'm coughing from an overpowering smell.

_"Yo. 'Sup girl. What it do?" _the tallest one says. He's scrawny and wearing a bad curly black wig.

Coughing I answer with spite, _"Your cologne makes my eyes burn is what it do!"_

In turn the boy rolls his eyes. _"All right. Listen, _mamacita,_ you want a nice hot slice of Jerry put or not?" _

_"What are you talking about?"_ I ask in annoyance with a slight hint of exasperation in my voice. Behind 'Jerry' the other two boys stare at us intently; studying my reaction.

_"Sorry."_ the obnoxious boy says, causing me to blink. _"Let me slow it down."_ he looks to the others as he begins to back up. The look on his face suggests I'm the most dim-witted person on the planet. _"Forgot I was talking to the blonde."_

My blonde self feels rage shooting inside her. I snarl, _"That's it!"_ and lunge forward.

"Ann? Ann, are you alright?"

Snapping out of my reverie I look up to see Josh staring at me worriedly. My hands are still pressed to my forehead in pain.

"Yes, I mean, yeah I'm fine." I say, biting my lip.

He continues to look at me so I smile in reassurance.

"Right. Well in my opinion, I think you'd look great as a blonde." he comments, messing up my hair with his hand.

I chuckle.

"Of course you would think that. So what did you really want at table five?" I peer over the kitchen window only to be blocked by Josh.

"You have to close your eyes." he says, winking at me.

"Well that's not suggestive." I reply with a smirk but comply with his request.

Even if he tried anything I somehow knew I could defend myself. But I also knew that Josh wasn't that kind of a person. He's been my friend for three years— I think. Well, as long as I can remember. Which isn't that long at all.

On that one night when I was passed out behind the rock, the night when I forgot everything, Josh's parents; both with blonde hair and blue eyes, had nearly passed right be me. But somehow his mother saw my figure and demanded they go back.

They took me back to their home and waited until I woke up. I remember them questioning me about what happened, how I got there, and who I was. It was a surprise when they discovered that I had no answers.

They had a doctor take a look at me and that was when I was diagnosed with severe amnesia. He told me that there might be a possibility for me to regain my memories. But it was only possible by the use of _triggers:_ things that my old self was used to all the time. Being that I had no clue what I was used helped none.

It crushed me to know that I had a life I couldn't remember. And so I changed my hair color to brown that very night. I figured that if I couldn't remember the way things used to be for me than I don't want my appearance to mock me and tell me that I'm not capable of doing what I know I can't do. Confusing. But that was my reasoning. Still is.

Later that night this boy came home. He was my age; 14. I knew right away that he was their son. That sandy hair and those big blue eyes. I wondered if I looked like my parents.

That night I met Josh McLean.

Being a curious boy he was so interested in my story. Very quickly he wanted to help me remember.

All through the night he sat with me in my newly acquired room drilling me like he was the FBI and I was an official from an opposing government.

No break-through whatsoever.

It was disheartening. The only thing we managed to do was name me, er, rename me I guess. Ann was the first thing that popped into my head.

And Ann was what I was known by ever since.

Even as the now 17 year old Josh leads me through the restaurant kitchen this is what he calls me to get me to shut up when I keep asking questions.

"You're just going to have to wait to find out." he responds happily.

"You, my friend, are a tease."

For some reason this causes the hold of his hands over my eyes to falter. I don't bother questioning it.

"Ok. . . Happy birthday, Ann!" Josh exclaims suddenly and releases me.

I blink a couple of times to focus my eyes and then I see it.

"Oh my god." I breathe, taking a couple of steps closer.

It's a cake. A really big cake in the shape of a bright red Converse shoe.

"This is fantastic!" I squeal and hug Josh tightly. My eyes are blurry from tears. A chorus of awe's sound off around us and I pull away, wiping my eyes. The whole staff and a few of the customers that are left stand around the cake.

This isn't my real birthday, I know it isn't. I can't remember my real birthday.

But this day three years ago I began a new life with a new family, friend, appearance, and environment.

Might as well call it a birthday.

Snapped back into this wondrous reality by the dozens of voices singing me the happy birthday song, I can't help but smile. I might have lost a lot. But I've gained just as much.

"Well," Josh clears his throat once the song is finished. I look behind me at him and he breaks out into a grin. "Make a wish."

The lights above slowly begin to dim to where I'm suddenly aware of warmth behind me and a flickering of a yellow glow on the walls in front of me. Turning around I find that someone had set candles in the eyelets of the shoe cake. Conveniently there are 17 eyelets for 17 candles. I gasp inwardly; I hope that someone has taken a picture of this.

There's a warm hand on my back pushing me forward all of a sudden but I don't jump at all.

Leaning forward on the tips of my very own red Converse shoes I close my eyes hard; squeezing them shut. I'm concentrating with all my might on my one wish. What do I really want?

The cool air that whooshes out of my lips puts out all 17 of the tiny flickering flames at once and sends the crowd and me into a moment of complete darkness before someone cuts the main lights back on.

A celebration breaks out. It seems that out of nowhere people have taken out red, grey, and white diamond patterned party blowers. Noise erupts all around.

I smile like an idiot in the middle of all the madness.

"So," a low voice whispers into my ear, "What did you wish for?"

I don't bother to look at Josh when I whisper back, "Same thing that I always do."

And to this he slips a smooth hand into mine.

* * *

**Jack Brewer  
Brewer Residence  
December 17  
9:12 PM**

The plastic is smooth and cool and protective of the shiny photograph within its sleeve as I run my finger across the surface. Friction between the two causes a bit of static to shoot up into my palm. I ignore it, turning the page in a trance.

Another year has passed already; 365 days of not knowing where, when, and why. A whole year's worth of dust had collected on the blue polka-dotted album and I had to clear it all off, as I had done a year before.

It seems that performing this morbid tradition sets me in a robot like state. I don't speak. I try not to make any sound. I sit on my bed just flipping through my past; our past; me and Kim's.

I'm not sure whether it's therapeutic or not. Looking at the past doesn't help me _move forward and forget _was what my actual therapist had told me. But I don't want to forget.

I know she's out there trying to get back to her life, to her family, to me.

I know because if something did happen to her I would feel it inside me.

And that's why I can't give up.

* * *

**A/N:**

A flash forward to three year's after the accident and a lot of information that happened to lead up to the present. I hope you enjoyed.**PLEASE COMMENT! :D**


	3. School Shopping- in December?

**Ann McLean **  
**McLean Home**  
**December 17**  
** 7:53 PM**

"I want to go back to school." I say, cutting through the comfortable silence.

Everyone stops eating, the sound of clinking silverware cease, and then everyone's looking at me. Three pairs of wide blue eyes. I'm suddenly uncomfortable. My palms are sweating so I set my fork down into my soup and place my elbows on the table. Bad manners, I know.

"What do you mean, Ann. You're learning a lot by what I'm teaching you, right?" Marsha, Mrs. McLean, points out slowly.

I nod, raising my eyebrows and swallowing my discomfort, saying, "I am. And I'm grateful for that. But I'm talking about public school. Other than Josh I have no social life. If you looked at my physical, mental, and social health triangle it would look like an octagon; all out of whack." I give a flourish of my hands to show the seriousness of my proposition.

"What about the restaurant?" Ed, Mr. McLean, asks.

I turn to where he sits; at the head of the rectangular table; opposite of his wife; and send him a confused look.

"You talk to plenty of people at the Stella Cadente. I'm sure your perfectly in whack."

"That's true, but I have to learn to be around people my age." I explain. Both parents go to open their mouths so I hold up a hand:  
"And not just Josh."

Leaning back into my seat I sigh. My hand reaches up to rub my temples. "Not everyone's your son, y'know, they don't have his personality, his manners, his humor, or his face. People are different and I need exposure to that."

"Yes, but—" both parents chorus together. I slam my fist on the table; anger all of a sudden. Why are they denying my freedom? It is mine isn't it?

Is it because—?

Ludicrous.

"It's been three years, guys, I know I can handle it!"

Looking between the three: the two disagreeables and their suddenly mute son, I let out a groan and pull back from the table. The chair legs make loud scraping noises but I don't care.  
"Ann!" someone calls.  
But I'm already out of the house.  
Outside the air is cold. Adding in the blowing wind makes it even more cold. Suddenly I'm regretting forgetting my jacket. But I ignore my discomfort and push on.  
What's the big deal about going to a public school?  
Wouldn't they only be against my decision if I was asking to _not_ go to school?  
It's been three years for crying out loud!  
Do they think I'm weak?  
Do they think I'm fragile?  
Do they think I'm not capable of taking care of myself because I am. I am way more than capable.

I continue to move down the street; unaware of where I'm going until all of a sudden I'm about to fly.

"Whoa!" I say, feeling like I'm about to fly backward. Then my instincts kick in to where I shift my weight enough for me to flip over and spring off my hands and flip over once again. My right foot lands on the ground first and then my left. I stumble back a few steps before regaining complete balance.

What was that?

Shaking my head, I don't bother to think too hard about it. Walking forward, cautiously this time, I search the ground for whatever caused me to slip.

It's a ball. The size of a tennis ball, the thing was, and bright red too. I lean down to pick it up.

It's made of hard plastic and seemingly hollow inside. Blades of broken grass stick to it at random spots but I don't mind it.

I begin to bounce it up and down, back and forth, alternating hands, and doing tricks.

Right as I go to throw the ball up in the air a sudden flash appears before my eyes. It's not lightning its internal and I'm crouched on the ground in pain.

_I'm blonde again and much younger looking than the time I was attacking that one boy. In my hand is a bright red apple that I'm tossing up and down. Distracted I lose my grip on the apple and it flies forward; out of my reach. _

_But right when I feel that all is lost the apple is caught within the crook of someone's upper ankle. They jerk their foot upwards, letting go of the fruit, catching it in the grasp of their fingers. _

_I look up to meet my savior—_

The flash ends abruptly, right before I see who caught my apple, leaving me alone in the cold, dark night. I stand up from my crouch. My joints pop as my muscles stretch.

Spinning on my heel I make my way back home, leaving the red ball behind me.

* * *

"Annie. Oh Annie." someone says quietly, breaking into my once deep sleep. I grumble and roll on my other side. "Ann, wake up." the person speaks again, this time adding poking to get me to open my eyes.

"My parents are allowing you to go to my school."

I bolt up straight in bed. "I'm awake." I sniff, rub my nose, and look to the vicinity of the voice. It's Josh.

"What did you say again?" I ask hungrily.

"I talked to my parents and they agreed to let you attend my high school on the condition that I watch over you; like a protector." he wriggles his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes but begin to jump up and down on my bed.

"This is great! You can introduce me to your friends." I exclaim, grinning widely.

For a quick moment he averts his blue eyes from my brown ones before smiling. "O-of course."

I stop bouncing. "What? Am I not good enough or something?" I ask.

"Or something." he says it so low my ears strain to hear it.

I scoff. "They're popular aren't they?"

He waves his hands back and forth, clearing my comment.  
"No, no, that's not it. It's just, there's cliques, Ann, and sometimes people aren't so excepting." he replies honestly and to this I'm grateful.

"At least you told me the truth." I sigh. Shaking my head, I clear my mind of negative thoughts, "So when do I start?"

"Right after winter break is over. Tomorrow Mom is taking you out to get your school supplies." he says. Chuckling, he adds, "You know, I think she wants to go shopping with you as well for new outfits."

"Why is that so funny?" I ask him curiously.

Josh smiles his wide, white smile and says: "Because she always told me that she wanted a son. But deep down I know when she first saw you as her child it thrilled her. Pink themed sleepovers and frilly dresses probably filled her mind. Going shopping at the mall; with someone other than her husband or me; to shop for clothes and not video games, excited her. And now she can."

I laugh with him this time at the sheer happiness that clothes shopping with a fellow girl can bring. Though at a sudden thought I stop and turn to Josh.

"Is that the real reason I'm going to school. Because of clothes?" I ask him seriously. I'm not sure how I feel about my education being bartered for like water in the Sahara. But some part of me finds it humorous.

"Psshhhh. Nooooo." Josh answers dismissively, his voice is about three octaves higher. I give him a glare. He sighs. "All right yes, it played a big part. But the other part was the promise of me looking after you."

"Oh and that's supposed to make me feel better?" I raise my eyebrow.

He feigns hurt. "My heart, Annie, is breaking."

"Oh grow up you big child." I tease and give him a light shove.

* * *

**Jack Brewer  
Lakeview Mall  
December 18  
1:14 PM**

Fifteen miles away from Seaford is the Lakeview Mall. It's bigger than the one where Falafel Phil's is. Newer. I don't have any memories that took place in the mall so I guess you could say that's why it's the only mall I shop at.

It's why I'm here now.

As we: Adam, Nick, and I, enter into _Lids_, a hat store, I grab my phone out of my back pocket one last time to see if Ricky had texted.

Yes, I did just say Ricky. As in Ricky Weaver, formerly known as the 'private jet flying, San Francisco burger buying, hot-tubbing, doll haired monster.'

During the time that Kim had been missing, Ricky found out that the celebrity life-style wasn't for him. (Truth was his _Imagine_album didn't sell so well.) He decided to give it all up and come back to school. It didn't really surprise me that out of all the schools in the country, he came back to the one where the only fan that didn't kiss him was. But it surprised him to find out that that fan had been missing for nearly a year. I think this changed him honestly. And that was good and bad.

Good, because he didn't look at girls like they were stamps to be collected anymore. And bad, because this change made him and his doll-hair even more irresistible.

Oh yeah and we became friends. I'm not really sure what category that falls under.

"Dude," someone whaps me with a SnapBack. I glance up from my phone.

"What?" I ask Nick since he's the one holding the hat.

"You were looking at your phone like you were gonna make out with it." he says in his drawling British accent.

"Funny." I reply monotonously and make a face at him.

He flips the hat on his head and turns around to walk away. As he does so, in a sing-songy voice he says, "Someone's on their period."

I roll my eyes.

Nick Jones is a transfer student from Britain, his accent plus his curly hair and green cat eyes makes him even more irresistible to girls than Ricky. Needless to say there's a very big rivalry between the two. I usually don't have them both together in the same room, building, or square mile, but Jerry's birthday is in two days and we all want pitch in and get him something cool.

Jerry Martinez was the only one of the Wasabi Warriors that stuck around after everything happened. Though he matured a bit, losing his confusion and gaining a more realistic aspect on life, he continues to dance. At school he has a major following with the dance crew. He's actually the leader, Grace is his second in command. She has also changed a lot. For one, she quit cheerleading. It disgusted her so much that after only three days of Kim being missing, the squad suggested that she become captain. She didn't want to hear it. So she gave it up and joined Jerry's clan. Jerry was pretty ecstatic.

"This place is lame," Adam comments walking up to me with an unrevealing look on his face. "There's nothing even remotely cool here."

Adam is one of those people who looks unapproachable and acts like he doesn't give a flying fire truck about anything but he's really just reserved. His past is not exactly pretty and it's the reason he's living with his aunt. Once you get to know him he's great.

"You're right." I agree, motioning to Nick that we're leaving. "Let's go check out the music store.

"Fine." he nods.

* * *

**A/N:**  
I should win a firetrucking award for the lamest ending ever. But no matter. This chapter was fun to write and the second chapter in Counting Sheep. Jack's point of view introduced a couple more characters (To you directioners, Nick Jones _is_ played by Harry Styles. Hehe.) and each one of them are vital to the story despite their flimsy descriptions. Next chapter is actually almost done but I want to get a bit ahead so I won't get writer's block when you guys need a chapter. Spoiler: Ann/Kim may or may not meet Jack next chapter. . . Anyways, I thoroughly hope you enjoyed and if you did comment what you think!


	4. It's Just a Bump

**AN: **

Oooh, special Author's Note before the chapter? Yup! I just wanted to thank the people that have reviewed this story; it really means a lot to me!

So thank you to:

**All the Guests (though it would be great to thank you by your penname's), SwiftStar1, nikki, kick 4ever, kickobsession43, shiqi98, ilovesports1999, squirmyorchid, . .Live, iamevablazeska, and to the fabulous others who have followed and favorited. **

Anyway, on with the chapter!

* * *

**Ann McLean**  
**Lakeview Mall**  
**December 18**  
**1:27 PM**

'My eye-balls hurt.' is what my brilliant mind articulates as I step into the cluttered music store. I rub my forehead in attempt to; soothe my mind's eye, or at least try to find my internal brightness setting. Hugging my navy and white striped heavy-knit cardigan closer to my body I let out a shaky breath. I swear the store temperature couldn't possibly get any lower. If it could, the area of Hell beneath the tiled blue floor would indeed freeze over. I'm surprised I don't see my breath.

"Can I help you?" asks a pitchy female voice. My neck is tense from trying to preserve my body heat as I turn it toward the source. She's a small thing, with mousy black hair and glasses. Her attire appalls me. She wears only a green V-neck with a black vest flashing the store's logo and thin black pants. Her hair is up in a very formal looking bun and a wide smile is placed easily on her lips. How in the world she isn't shaking like the Burj Khalifa in a magnitude 6.0 earthquake is beyond me.

"Um, n-no." I say as clearly as I can but my lips fumble. She nods and goes to go back to whatever part of Alaska she came from. Moving on, I begin to stroll down the aisles searching for nothing in particular.

My back pocket vibrates suddenly and I give a little shriek of surprise. I look around to make sure no one heard my outburst. Nope. Ok.

I slip out my phone to see who it is then immediately roll my eyes.

_Ann, where'd you go?_

My fingers work to reply when the phone buzzes again. Clicking the 'view' button I see that it's another text message from Marsha.

_I've somehow wandered into Hollister and can't see anything._

To this I chuckle in agreement and go to reply when my phone vibrates yet _again_.

Stabbing my phone in annoyance I quickly read what she wrote.

_There's a lounge in the store so I'm just going to wait here. Come when you're ready._

My phone gets shoved back in my pocket without a bother to reply and I continue forward, shaking my head.

Marsha and I arrived at Lakeview Mall at 10:00 this morning and finished my school supply shopping at around 10:30. Since then we've been clothes shopping and I now have a wardrobe so big that I'd never have to wear the same outfit twice. I think Mrs. McLean was more excited than I was.

In some of the stores she went a bit wild ripping clothes off racks and shoving them on me. I didn't know whether to feel annoyed that I had no opinion in the matter. But after a couple of pit stops in dressing room I found out the Marsha was actually quite fashionable. So I let her do my shopping.

But I did _not_want her to pay for me.

The first couple of times I offered to pay for the clothes since I had more than enough money. She happily declined saying that this was a treat. Whether it was for me or her was not made clear. I tried a few more times and she became very avid and a bit scary. I didn't bother her again and wound up wandering elsewhere. And that's why I'm here now.

My eyes rove over the wide choice of CDs before stopping at the newest The Script album. It appears to have done well as there is only one left. Reaching out, I grab the corner of it right when someone else does the same. I glance up with a challenging look on my face. My fingers now have a really firm grip on the corner.

"You have good taste in music," I say nonchalantly.

I take in his features as I wait for him to respond. He has floppy brown hair and _grey_ eyes. His face is angular and attractive. He's a bit taller than me.

When he finally does reply it's by rolling his eyes.

I stand there in astonishment. Hmmm, I'm getting a rudeness vibe from him.

"Do you speak?" I ask, still not letting go of _my_cd. "Hello?"

"Look," he says, his voice us a lot deeper than I expected, "Why don't you just give me the CD, leave me alone, and scurry on back to your mom over there."

Looking over my shoulder I do indeed see Ms. McLean with bags of different colors, shapes, sizes, and materials adorning her arms and shoulders. Catching my eye, she waves me over, smiling.

"Funny, you don't look like your _mom_." he adds with an angered undertone.

I shoot him a mysterious look, trying to figure out what he's thinking, before replying somberly, "She's not my mom. I-I guess you could say I'm adopted."

By some sort of miracle he finally looks into my eyes. What I see is sadness, pain, and fury grappling in his vibrant grey eyes. I gasp inwardly at the sudden emotions. "Really?" he asks, not sympathetic like I've heard from other people, but almost as if he _understands_.

"Y-yeah." I reply.

He nods at me and lets go of the CD surrendering his tough guy act to speak to me like a human being. "If you don't mind me asking, where _are_ your parents?"

"Um. . ."

Holding his hand out he stops me. "Sorry, that was impersonal. You don't have to answer that."

I give him a small but genuine smile and say, "I'll tell you what really happened when I know myself. And then you can tell me what happened to your parents."

His first expression is confusion which morphs slowly into his second expression: surprise, "How do you know something happened to my parents?" he queries.

I shrug. "A Relatable's intuition, I guess."

He shoots me a kind smile as he thinks this through. After a few seconds he raises his hand, offering it to me. I take it firmly.

"I'm Adam."

I smile. "Ann."

"I like you Ann." he says, "You tell it like it really is. I think we could be good friends."

I quirk an eyebrow, nodding slowly, and processing his forwardness. "I agree. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Sure." he smiles again, flashing me brilliantly white teeth. I feel a blush creeping up my neck as I can't help but grin back. I didn't expect him to be a smiler; a genuine person with feelings he wore on his sleeve. I think I expected him to be more of a smirker; someone who acts cool and flashes a rare grin on special occasions. I'm pleasantly surprised.

There's a commotion in the front of the store causing Adam and I both to glance over. Two guys have just come in and are hugging their arms to their chests. I assume Adam must know them as he starts waving. They don't see him so I take this as my cue to leave.

"It was nice meeting you, Adam." I say. The tall boy looks at me nodding.

"Same to you, Ann. But don't get used to winning a CD fight. I'm pretty persistent when it comes to my music." he winks at me.

I raise my eyebrows. "Then it looks like you've met your match." I reply warningly before giving a final wave and walking toward Marsha. He flashes me one last blinding smile.

"So who was that?" she asks me smirking.

Behind me I hear Adam and his friends talking about whatever.

"Someone who has the same taste in music as me."

"Oh." she says simply and suggestively. I roll my eyes and go up to the counter to pay for the lone CD. The girl must have sensed my presence as she appeared as soon as I set the plastic case on the counter.

"Nice choice," she comments cheerfully. I wince slightly at her perkiness and note how she's still not frozen as I get out my wallet.

When she hands over my bag and receipt I can't help but ask. "Aren't you cold?"

Immediately her façade drops. She's rolling her eyes slowly, deliberately, I can almost feel the annoyed vibes eminating from her pores.

"You have no idea." she huffs. Leaning forward on the counter she whispers into my consoling ear, "I smuggled in my own small heater a couple of weeks ago. Now the other employees stand around it unmoving like meat to be thawed. Bad comparison. But my brain's deepfreezed."

I wince sympathetically, patting her shoulder. "Good luck then." I say. She nods with another roll of her eyes as I take my bag and retreat to Mrs. McLean.

"We hope you come again!" she calls to my back, her work voice has returned and is secure.

"Are you ready to go home?" I ask my guardian.

She chuckles then looks at me. "Only two more shops, dear. Take some of these bags, will you?" she shrugs them toward me. I dip down to grab the handles before they fall completely to the ground.

"Only two more shops?" I verify.

"Only two." she smiles.

"Then let's get'er done!"

* * *

**Jack Brewer**  
**Lakeview Mall**  
**December 18**  
**2:00 PM**

"Who was that?" he says wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Adam glares at Nick. "What? I had to ask. No girl surpasses the emotionless brick wall that is Adam right?"

"Her name is Ann." the aforementioned boy speaks blankly.

Nick, Ricky who just showed up, and I look to him with our eyebrows raised.

And that's when the questions begin.

"What does she look like?"

"Was she hot?"

"Do you like her?"

"Was she hot?"

"Did she ask you out?"

"Why were you talking to her?"

"Was she annoying?"

"Was she hot?"

"Did she force herself on you?"

All of our voices mash together and then slowly fade back to silence as we run out of questions. Adam looks as Adam would: standing rigid and unresponsive. He surveys us, and having to look down, we feel like children.

Ricky flings his arms out to the side in exasperation. "_Well?"_

To our surprise Adam gives a smirk and a shake of his head.

"Man we need to know this!" Nick cries.

Adam laughs suddenly. We all look to him like he's gone mad which makes him laugh even more.

"She's fine, she's nice, she's witty, she's unique, and she's definitely attractive." he sums up for us.

And before we can give him a hoot, a holler, or a congratulatory pat on the back for finding someone of the opposite sex that he can stand— Adam leaves the store, shaking his head in amusement. We all chorus our incredulousness at his attitude and follow him out. As we run out of the freezer of a music store I catch a flash of red out of the corner of my eyes. Turning my head ever so slightly I see them: bright red Converse sneakers. It's in that moment that I remember their meaning and fall to the ground at the same time.

__"But Jack this _is_ important! All I need are the red ones and my collection is— don't run away from me!" _

_I continue to speed walk as I try to hide my smile. I know Kim only needs the red shoes, the whole gang knows about her infamous Converse collection. We just want her to think we don't as her birthday is coming up soon. _

_"Kim I can't get you a pair of shoes for no reason." _

_"My birthday is coming up soon, there's a reason! Jack c'mon!"_

_I try hard not to laugh at her exasperation. Somehow I managed a look of surprise._

_"Your birthday's this month?" _

_"_Jack_." she drawled in her southern accent. A warning laced her single word tightly. I winced. _

_"Sorry Kim!" I said, shrugging my shoulders. Then finding a flimsy excuse, I scurry off. _

_"Ugh!" is the last thing I here as I run away like a coward._

_A few weeks later Kim's birthday I was way beyond worn out. The aforementioned blonde kept pestering me and pestering me about those damn shoes. There were a couple of times that I almost cracked and got her those shoes right then and there totally forgetting about the surprise. I resisted angered temptation. _

_After several days of plain out asking me for them, she decided to leave me _subtle_ hints about what she wanted for her birthday. _

_I was the strongest out of the group. Kim attacked us all with her beguiling clues and nearly cracked Milton in half. By miracles we survived Kim and her persistence. _

_So that celebratory day consisted of everyone, other than Kim of course, being dead tired. _

_She had a brilliant blue cake that we made ourselves and despite the cut lip she received from a stray egg-shell, it turned out pretty well. Jerry gave her some cool dancer type sneakers that were also wedges and a certificate for ten free dance classes (he said he was forcing her to go), Milton gave her a model of the solar system that showed holographic views of the planet, Eddie gave her a really big gift card to Falafel Phil's (by big I mean it was like two feet tall), I gave her a necklace with the Chinese character for friendship as the pendant, and Rudy gave her a bedazzled black-belt and the news that she was now a second-degree black-belt like me. Exactly as planned she loved everything to pieces but tried to hide her disappointment that she didn't get her shoes. Right when it seemed as if she was slipping into depression, and not from the fact we were watching Sofi's Choice, we brought out the box and presented it before her. _

_For five minutes after the surprise none of us could hear clearly from Kim's screaming. _

_We didn't mind it as she was happy._

"Hun, are you alright?"

A honey smooth voice snakes its tendrils through my unconsciousness. Something about it makes my memories jump and I murmur the first thing that comes to mind. "Kim."

"What did you say? Can you open your eyes for me?"

This person sounds just like Kim. Am I in heaven? No, Jack, of course you're not in heaven that would mean that Kim is—

I try to do what the person says and manage to crack my eyelids open. I groan. Pain comes rushing into my head. Reaching my hand to my hair I feel around until I feel something warm seep between the cracks in my fingers.

"You hit your head pretty hard on the corner of that table. You were out for a whole five minutes." Kim's voice tells me informatively.

Glancing up at the girl I try to see if she really is who I so desperately want it to be. Opening my eyes wide everything is blurry. The only thing I can gather about her is that she has pale skin and light brown hair. I sigh.

_It isn't her Jack._ I think to myself. _Why in the world you actually thought it would be her makes you a lunatic._

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" says the girl again.

My eyes furrow together in pain. She sounds _exactly_like Kim, and yet she isn't.

"It's ok, Miss." a new voice enters into my ears. This one is a male's and has a drawling a British accent. I quickly recognize it as Nick's. "My other friend has a car right around the corner. We can take him from here."

I can tell the girl is thinking this through— or maybe she's giving Nick googly eyes. Wouldn't be the first time. After a moment's pause she moves her head and I take it that she nodded.

"Fine." she says.

I see her figure stand back up and before I register what's happening I'm on my feet as well. Spots appear before my eyes. Several voices speak some sort of 'uh oh' as I begin to fall sideways. But before I hit ground I'm picked up and off my feet.

"Make sure he gets home safe." is the last thing I hear. And then I'm out.

* * *

**A/N:**  
What? They met didn't they? I'm a teasing little coconut aren't I? But hey I never said how they would meet. Comment what you think of this chapter and can we try for ten? It doesn't really matter, but I already have the next chapter halfway done. ;D

P.S. You guys should probably pay attention to the dates in the beginning of the chapters and character's POV from now on.


	5. Confessions

**Author's Note: **

**Warning: Mature language! :D **

But first off I want to thank:

misslulu2020

sweetsos209

September14Fall

SwiftStar1

ilovesports1999

JasmineLief

Shiqi98

**And!**

misslulu2020 for commenting twice! lol.

* * *

**Ann McLean**

**Used Car Shop**

**December 18**

**4:38 PM**

"No way!" I screech loud enough for the couple two Toyotas down from us to turn their heads toward me. Ignoring them completely, I run to the car door of my very own powder blue Mustang convertible.

I know, fuhreaking awesome right?

As Marsha and I were leaving the mall she told me that she and Mr. McLean felt that since I was seventeen, legal driving age, I should get my license. She then said that we were heading to the dealer that very moment to get my car. I was shocked and confused. The situation sounded a little horse before the cart, but I found out it's because they know a guy here that's holding this car especially for us.

You see, though the Mustang is amazingly pretty, it needs a new engine, new brakes, new windshield wipers, and, oh yeah, a steering wheel.

A little odd.

But according to the two McLean's it's a really good price. They told me that it'll take a few days to get all the parts but with their incredible planning, I'll have my license by Christmas _and_ by the time my dream car is fixed.

My family is perfect.

"Thank you, thank you _so_ much!" I say from the front seat of _my _car. Marsha nods happily to me. I hold my arms out in front of me, pretending I'm holding the steering wheel. Inside my mind I'm zooming down the high-way, my hair is blowing in the wind, and Josh is sitting next to me with a huge grin on his face. I mean, I can't leave my best friend out of my fantasy. In my little daydream I look over at him and laugh. He laughs with me and throws his arms up.

I glance at the road and speed up. Other cars are honking at us. I look back at Josh, only to see it's not him.

Dropping my arms from my imaginary steering wheel I jerk back into reality shaking my head. I check on Mrs. McLean but she's talking to someone a little ways off. I must have really zoned off.

But in my little daydream I saw that _boy_ sitting next to me instead of Josh. I saw the boy who had tripped and hit his head on that table in the mall. The one with the freckle on each cheek.

It was so realistic it was scary.

He was smiling, laughing with joy. His features were so real and yet I'd never even see him make that expression— He was grimacing from his wound last time I checked.

Shaking my head again I loosen up the frown on my face and unfurrow my eyebrows.

_Disregard it, Ann. You've been worrying about him since his friend carried him away. Of course he'd be on your mind_.

I blink a couple of times and straighten my spine.

"So Ann, you like the car?" Marsha asks redundantly.

Looking up at her I smile. She moves fast. "Love it."

"Good." she then turns to the man standing beside her. He's wearing dark jeans, a blue tank-top, and a button up shirt over it. On my age-o-meter I calculate that he's in his late thirties. And, judging by the plethora of dark oil stains on his clothes, he's also the owner of the dealership. "Thanks for holding this car for us, Greg."

"Of course. Around the corner is the other one you asked for." he replies gruffly. Without her consent he walks away.

Marsha looks to me.

"If you want to stay here," she says, "I'll just be around the corner. We're getting Josh the same car but in red!"

I chuckle at her enthusiasm and nod that I'll just remain where I am.

"Be back in a few." she calls to me as she scurries to try and catch up with Greg. Ha. Good luck.

When she disappears around the corner I turn back to look through the windshield. My mind automatically begins to think about _him_ again.

I have no clue what his name is, what his age is, if he's smart, or if he is friendly or not. But something deep inside me tells me that I do know. Is that weird?

In the mall when he fell I rushed over worriedly to see I'd he was alright. To me, then, he was just a stranger in need. But as I drew near and saw his face my heart started beating faster and my cheeks flushed.

Maybe it was because he was the second attractive person I'd met that day. Maybe I was intimidated.

As I sit in my car I know these thoughts aren't true. Adam looked pretty intimidating at first but I wasn't afraid to talk to him. And the boy who had fallen hadn't even spoken one word to me.

Or did he?

When he woke up I saw his lips move. And if everyone else had been quiet I would have heard what he said. But I didn't. So it doesn't mean anything, right?

Ugh, thoughts!

I rub my temple furiously then let out a big sigh to rid my mind of such excruciating thoughts.

"Are you ready, Ann?" Mrs. McLean touches my shoulder lightly; I turn to her in surprise.

"Uh yeah." I say, sliding out of the convertible. "Let's go home."

* * *

**Jack Brewer**

**Seaford Emergency Hospital**

**December 19**

**12:25 PM**

This wasn't my room. I could feel it in the air. No like I could literally feel it. In _my_ bedroom I have sea green walls with a window occupying two of them. Those two windows are always open to let the sunlight in because I just can't stand not being able to feel the warmth from the sun. Is that weird?

Well with my windows open all the time my room smells crisp and natural.

In this room I feel constricted. I can tell the windows are closed. If they were open this lousy antiseptic smell wouldn't be as strong.

And that's when the alarms go off.

Where am I?

My eyes are closed and dark. I can't seem to open them, yet I'm fully awake. Directing my thoughts to my fingers I wiggle them about a little. Feeling heaviness on my fourth finger I wiggle it a little more. The surface underneath my fingers is rough cloth. I guess that their sheets; their nothing like my _silk _sheets in my room though,

"Guys I think he's waking up." comes a deep voice.

In response I feel my eyebrows twitch and come together. My fingers move again and I shift in my bed. The edges of my eyelids lift ever so slightly. In this movement it feels like the led weights on top of them have lifted.

"Jack?" the same voice says.

Freely, I open my eyes. And then I shut them again in pain from the burning bright lights above me.

"Yup he's awake." the boy says again.

I finally recognize who it is.

"Jerry?" I say, squinting my eyes open. My voice sounds horrible, grumbly, scratchy; I don't even I know why.

"The one and only Swag Master!" he replies with a wide grin. I force my eyes open all the way. Pushing my weight into my arms I grunt as I push my body into a sitting position.

My mind registers several other bodies in the room before a flood of arms come toward me all at once. They grab my arms. They push me forward. They take my pillow. A hand kneads my shoulder in an attempt to message it. Someone else takes the glass from my bedside table and fills it water. My pillow is put back fluffed and soft; I'm eased back into the pillow like it's going to explode if I hit it on the wrong angle. My hand is soon occupied with the clear glass of water and pushed up to my lips.

I open up my mouth a little too late when someone tries to tip the contents into my mouth. Excess liquid dribbles past my lips and down my chin to drop off and onto my hospital gown. Realizing I'm wearing only a _hospital_ gown my eyes open wide.

I'm in the hospital?!

I begin to struggle; my heartbeat is becoming erratic; the monitor is suddenly beeping loudly. In a panic my hand accidentally hits the water glass. It falls to the ground and shatters.

"Guys, mmph, guys stop. I'm alright." I try explaining; but everyone's still bustling around trying to pick up the broken glass on the ground; trying to make me comfortable. I feel like I'm drowning under all of the hands; suffocating beneath limbs.

Gulping in a big breath of air, I push my hand out from under everyone and slam the button that calls the nurse.

Two flashes of white instantly burst into the room. They're milky blurs with dark hair. Working together they manage to get everyone away from me; I regain my personal space. As everyone moves away from me I see recognizable faces: Adam, Ricky, Nick, and my parents.

The snow couple hustles everyone out of the room only allowing one person at a time. I release a big sigh.

"That must have been quite a table to knock you out for the whole night."

My eyes that were drooping into a relaxed state flutter open like snapped up blinds. My body gives a little jerk and my mouth lets out a surprised shout.

"Dude, chill. For someone who's a second degree black belt you're way too easily surprised." Jerry says teasingly.

To this comment I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry.

He's right. I should have better instincts then to yell like a little girl. But I haven't trained in karate for nearly three years. The reasons are obvious.

"So dude happy almost birthday." I say, clearing the previous comment out of my mind.

Jerry snorts and rubs his eye. "Yeah, great almost birthday, Jack." he says. "You go and get a concussion and Grace goes and gets a boyfriend."

I look at him oddly.

"Brody." is all he says.

My heart sinks for my friend. The color in the Latino's face drains slowly. He shakes his head; the floppy fringe on his forehead swishes from side to side. Jerry rarely gets haircuts anymore. When he does it's to only trim the ends.

He always says he likes his hair as a change. I know that somehow it relates to Kim's disappearance. He was just as torn up as I was.

Sinking against the hospital walls he slides down them and into a small white loveseat. Both of us are quiet. Jerry has liked Grace since he first met her and for a while it seemed like Grace reciprocated the feeling. I guess not. But of all the people, she goes for Brody?

"I'm sorry, man." I say earnestly, looking down at my hands.

From the corner of my right eye I catch Jerry rubbing his eye again.

"Don't be." he sighs. A moment later he clears his throat and adjusts his posture. "So how did you end up smashing your brains against that table?" he asks.

Letting out a tense breath I laugh. "Interesting story actually," I say.

"Do you remember those bright red Converse shoes we gave Kim for her birthday?"

Jerry looks down, smiling, in reflection. "Yeah, she was a real pain in the ass about them."

Together we both laugh freely at the memory. "What about it?" he asks.

"I saw someone wearing those exact same shoes. They caught my eye; I turned around real fast and then— tripped."

Jerry glances up from his reflective state and glares at me. "Are you serious?" he asks. "You could've killed yourself on that table over a fucking pair of shoes?"

I'm surprised at Jerry's language; I'm surprised at his sudden change in tune. He's never been one to curse like that. And though he can have violent mood-swings it's usually not to anger.

"Jerry, I can't help that I got hurt, but it couldn't have killed me. The shoes just caught me off guard and—"

"No!" Jerry booms. "Don't make excuses for your foolishness. You were distracted by a memory and it got you hurt!" the angered boy pauses a moment to rub his eyes. Peering closer I see that they're red and glistening.

"What are you talking about?"

He looks up at me. "You want Kim to come back to you, to me, to the gang. You want her to come back and for everything to suddenly progress like it did three years ago. You _want_ this to happen when you know it _won't_!" Jerry hops up from the couch in anger.

"You know she's lost in the world somewhere. You know she's more than likely gone." he says the last sentence in a whisper, a breath. It's barely audible but I hear it. And I don't like it.

Pushing my palms against my head I squeeze my eyes shut and take a guttural breath.

"You know its true." the Latino says dismally.

I shake my head.

"It's been _three_ years."

"But I _heard_ her." I argue.

Jerry looks at me blankly. "What?"

"The girl who was wearing the shoes— her voice was exactly like Kim's."

"Jack." Jerry speaks warningly. We both know I'm treading on a fragile subject.

"It's true!" is what I say in spite of this knowledge. "I swear it, she sounded just like Kim."

"Well was she?" he crosses his arms over his chest, defiantly.

"I couldn't see her face clearly."

"Jack."

"I know, I know."

He sighs. "Did she look anything remotely like her?"

"She had brown hair."

"Jack!"

"I know what you're thinking, dammit! But you should've been there, Jerry. It was _her_ voice!"

"Get a hold of reality, _Jack_—"

"I've got a fucking steel grip on reality, _Jerry_! It was Kim's voice!"

"No it wasn't you had a concussion!"

"It was her—"

"It wasn't her! It's never going to be her! KIM IS DEAD!" he interrupts loudly. There's a moment's pause for a ragged breath while his words sink in. He says what I always dread to think about but never voiced aloud in fear it would become true.

My face turns to stone as Jerry's resolves into tears. He clamps his hand over his mouth.

"I'm so sorry."

Falling into the love-seat his hands moves up to cover his entire face; and while he doesn't make another sound, I can see his shoulders shaking as he sobs silently.

It was several minutes before Jerry gathers himself together again and leaves the room somberly. He exits without a word of recognition of the moments before. But I let him go.

The next person in is Nick who looks especially worried since he saw what happened at the mall. He goes through normal interrogator questions, asking me how I'm doing, if I need anything, and when I get out. I answer each question patiently until he nods and stands up to leave the room. But right before he exits he turns his head and says, "What was wrong with Jerry? He rushed out of the hospital like Phil just announced the last Falafel ball in the world was up for grabs."

To this I shrug indifferently. "He was just pissed at me for being so clumsy. I _am_ a second degree black belt. I should really have better instincts."

Nick chuckles slowly. I can tell he doesn't believe anything I just said, but he doesn't want to question it. I appreciate it silently.

"See ya, then." he gives a little wave before slipping through the door.

Ricky and Adam come in next and ask the same questions Nick had already covered. After they wrap up their interview they are replaced by my mom and dad.

It's a sight to view: my mom and my dad both in the same room with me without yelling at each other. I'm surprised at how well they're acting toward each other when I realize that it's only a temporary, a small truce. I don't care. I'll take whatever they give me.

Both parents look worried as they approach me tentatively. "How are you, Jack?" my father asks me.

There's definitely a second meaning to that question. My dad hasn't lived under the same roof as me and mom's since I was ten. Kim is the only one that knows the full reason why this is.

"Other than the fact that I hit a table really hard, I'm fine." I say.

My mom gives me a lighthearted roll of her eyes. "Honey, don't joke. It could've been extremely serious."

"Mom," I say in annoyance.

"No, no, Jack. Your mom's right. I'm just glad your friends were there." says my dad.

Mom nods her head in agreement; I feel like I'm in the twilight zone.

"I am too." is all I say.

It's in this moment that perfect exists. My remote family is together again and agreeing on the same thing for once. I relish in it.

But I can't seem to get Jerry's words out of my mind.

_It wasn't her! It's never going to be her! KIM IS DEAD!_

Was it? Will it? Is she?

As I smile with my parents and listen to old stories I can't help the ominous feeling in my stomach. I try to ignore it. And with ease, I become lost in the happiness of my family.

For now.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hey guys.

That was intense...

But nevermind that! It's time to announce that the time for filler chapters has officially ended! **YAYYYYY**! Next chapter Ann/Kim ***SPOILER*** will meet the infamous Jack Brewer and his merry men of Seaford. Almost the whole chapter will be in her POV. In this one, though, Jack was the main character. I, as always, hope you enjoyed and if you did please comment what you think or suggestions on what I should improve on, etc. Love you my fellow coconuts!

P.S. **If you have a twitter account and a generous heart can you please go to Jen_Hiltz's twitter page and retweet her most recent tweet? She's trying to win a contest and only needs five more retweets to get ahead! Thanks.**


	6. How To Make An Entrance

**Thank you to:**

**Swagmasterlol**

**Secrets xx**

**Misslulu2020**

**Guest (C'mon I want to thank you personally)**

**TheLittleStupidThingsofLife**

**September14Fall**

**SwiftStar1**

**Nicole**

**DARE2BECRAZY**

**and**

**Sweetsos209 for commenting on my previous chapter!**

* * *

We were on a date, I was certain of it, and resided comfortably in the back regions of a nearly empty movie theater. The cause of the small population was not a mystery. Playing on the screen before us was the Horse Tamer: a seemingly gorgeous story of a boy who sells the shirt off his back to help a crippled "Appaloosa". I had originally boasted about the movie's superiority to 'The Attack of the Zompyres' to the boy sitting next to me. But with each passing second I was being proved horribly wrong.

The star of the movie spoke like a dunce that hit puberty despite his god given good looks, the disabled 'horse' was two guys under a large brown costume with a horse's head, and the entire movie took place in a field.

My companion's illuminated face contorted every so often in response to the film. Mine did as well. When there was a break in the dialogue he leaned over and looked at me.

"This maybe the worst movie I've ever seen." He told me bluntly.

I nodded.

"But I'm glad I'm here with you."

My eyes shot back up to his. My lips formed a smile. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

**Ann McLean**

**Ann's Convertible**

**January 2**

**7:14 AM**

I think I'm frightening Josh with my driving. Whenever I go to switch lanes, turn a corner, or even turn on my left hand signal his grip around car door tightens turning his knuckles white.

His actions constantly make me laugh which just puts him more on edge.

Josh has looked at me like I'm a lunatic for the past fifteen minutes.

In truth, I've felt light and giddy since I woke up this morning. I opened my eyes with a small smile on my face. I'm not sure of the reason. But it must've been nice.

Other things were on my mind as well. Today is my first day back to public school as Ann McLean. Last night I had set out all my clothes and school supplies. I went to bed prudently at 8:30. But pumped from nerves, I woke an hour before I needed to. To pass time I decided to go for a run around the neighborhood.

My fast beating heart and constant need for breath told me how out of shape I really was. Several times I had to stop and repent my decision to not bring a water bottle. After I took a shower when I got home I made up my mind to jog every morning.

Martha and Ed were already awake and eating breakfast when I returned.

Around 6:00 Josh finally stumbled out of his room. He was fully dressed in some dark jeans and a blue shirt. His hair was dripping wet so a small puddle formed behind his chair when he sat down at the table.

I came out a couple of minutes later in dark acid wash jeans, a patterned wool sweater, and black ankle boots.

I lifted my backpack off the wooden peg on the wall I slung it over one shoulder then grabbed my shiny new car keys and the back of Josh's shirt in both my hands. "Leggo your Eggo so we can go, hon." I drawled.

"Bye you guys," Martha said with a smile. Right before we left she added, "Drive safely!"

I barely even got the key in the ignition when Josh freezes in his seat, his seatbelt halfway from its destination.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh Jeez." Is all he said in response. I don't bother prying. Instead I turn on the car and drive down the driveway. "Oh Jeez! Oh gosh, why am I riding with you in the car? You only just got your license. Holy crap I'm gonna die!"

"Josh, shut up!" I hollered. He stopped immediately and has remained in the same position ever since.

Even though the torment of Josh is exhilarating it's getting boring. I reach over and turn on the stereo. We Wish You a Merry Christmas blares out from the speakers.

7 days after Christmas and they're still playing such happy holiday tunes. But it doesn't get to me since Christmas is my favorite holiday.

At least I think it is.

Sharing my first technical Christmas with the McLean family was heartwarming. It was like a scene out of the movies.

The Christmas tree was decorated with multicolored glass and tinsel coating the branches. The warm white lights made the tree glow with life. But the tree did not compare to the family that I was with. They were all adorned in tacky Christmas sweaters drinking eggnog from moose head shaped glasses.

There were even cookies laid out for Santa and carrots on a napkin for each of the 12 reindeer. Dasher got two of course because he was the leader.

The night before Christmas the McLean's introduced me to a tradition of theirs: each family member got to open up one Christmas present before the big event the next day.  
Though I noticed all the wrapped presents under the tree it didn't occur to me that some of them were mine.

I thought I was just a guest in their home. So I almost started crying when the present I was handed to me was baring a tag that said: to Ann McLean. It was a small gift bag that I didn't notice before. All three pairs of eyes were on me as I took what was inside the bag out. Under the tissue paper and wrapped in even more tissue paper was a small box. I knew it was jewelry from the blue felt that covered the outside.

I held my breath as I opened the small box. It all came out in a whoosh when I saw the gold "A" pendant that was lying within. I must have started crying again because all three McLean's came rushing to my side. They demanded to know what was wrong.

"Nothing," I assured, "it's beautiful."

Relieved laughter echoed in my ears. I kept staring at the beautiful gift until two large hands took away the small box. Glancing upwards, I watched Josh carefully take out the necklace to reveal its long matching golden chain. His calloused covered hands gracefully unclasped the necklace. He didn't fumble or lose his grip. It was like watching a giant taken to a wailing newborn. The tall boy swung his arm around my head from behind me and closed the necklace with ease. The coolness of the metal pressed against the nape of my neck.

"Thank you." I said.

"Always." he answered me kindly with a small smile that I could hear in his voice.

I didn't really pay attention to the other presents that were handed out. They must have been nice though. I think Josh got a gift card to some popular, name brand clothing store and one of the parents received some underwear (which was awkward). What I do know is that one of the other parents got a Paris themed calendar.

This stood out to me because I knew Ed and Martha both want to go there for their 20th anniversary.

It's a cliché destination but I wouldn't mind going there myself one day. I wouldn't want to go alone though I'd like to be like Martha and Ed and go with someone who I truly love. I'm just not sure I'll find someone like that considering the situation I'm in.

Who knows?

Someday I might wake up and not remember the person that I love. That would be an awful feeling to not remember love. No. I would not want to do that to someone. Not even Josh. I say that because I don't love him as a boyfriend. I love him as a brother- and that's even worse.

But then again, what if I remember?

What if I was an awful person before all this craziness happened, so awful that Josh and his parents won't love me anymore? What will I do then? I shake my head to clear these awful thoughts from it.

It's my first day of school technically I shouldn't ruin the happiness. I should enjoy this life that I have now and hope that if I do remember I'm not an awful person. I should know that if even if I was, I am NOT that same person and I can find forgiveness if I really try. But no matter I'm almost to school for my first day and I can't wait to meet new friends.

It's interesting to think of that I went from talking to Christmas to talking to being alone. I will make it my will to not be alone. And I will celebrate Martha & Ed's enjoyment of not being alone for 20 years by letting them take the trip of their dreams by going to Paris. I promise myself that I will make this happen. I will get the money and I will make their dreams come true.

Under instructions I turn right into the parking lot of a sprawling school. I feel my nerves catching up to me. My heart beats faster within my chest. Oh my god, can I really do it? Can I really walk into school at age 17 on technically my first day? This isn't kindergarten and I know that people won't accept me that easily anymore. I'll be judged as a freak show for not remembering anything before 3 years ago. Can I really handle that? Thoughts of Paris are now long gone.

"Ann," I hear Josh say. But my brain doesn't work. I can't answer him. I can't even move.

"Ann," he says again, this time he adds a little shake to my shoulder. "It's going to be alright you know." he reassures me.

When I don't respond I feel the cool sensation of lips on the side of my cheek. This immediately snaps me out of my reverie. I look to Josh inquisitively and see his face masked in a thin layer of rouge. We stare at each other for a couple of minutes before I start giggling. He seems confused, but joins me in my humorous state anyway. And before we both know it, we're bent with laughter. The mood is lightened considerably.

"Okay," he says through a burst of guffawing, "the bell is about to ring in a few minutes. I'll let you stay here while I get your schedule and everything."

I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows. "I'm not incapable, Josh."

The left corner of his mouth lifts. "Oh I know. But after your driving I need to take a private pilgrimage to the bathroom so I can let out how much I loved your driving into the toilets."

"Hey!" I squeal, hitting him in the back as he retreats from his seat. "At least I have my license!"

He lifts his hand and waves to me without looking behind him. "Whatever." he says.

With my arms crossed I huff theatrically and sit back in my seat as I wait for my stupid bro-.

Brother? Is that the word I'm about to say? Usually the two syllable word comes naturally off my tongue. But after that kiss, even if it was on the cheek, the word is like trying to cough up a rock. It definitely didn't seem so brotherly.

I shouldn't be weirded out by this. I mean come on; he isn't even my real brother. There is no blood relation whatsoever. And he's only a best friend.

But all the same, I just can't see myself loving Josh as something more than a sibling. He was the first person my age that I saw when I was basically retrieved from the side of the road like a lost puppy. Josh instantly became a brother in my mind the same way Martha and Ed instantly became my new parents.

My gaze is focused on the seedy looking laundromat across from where I'm parked when I feel a light tap on my shoulder.

On instinct I grab the person's hand before it retracts from the corner of my eye. With newly-found brute force I swing the person from behind me in a small arc so they crash into the car door that's holding me in the vehicle.

"Oomph." the person says.

My grip still alarmingly tight on the intruder's hand I let my eyes rise to view what I'm dealing with.

I let go immediately.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for grabbing you like that!" I say guiltily.

The boy, gathering from the deep grunt he let out when I slammed him into my door, is tall and lanky but I can tell from the tight shirt that he is not at all unfit. His hair, chocolate brown and extremely curly, would have been a lot cuter if it wasn't for the fact that it's currently all over the place; which was also my fault. All in all he's attractive. Very. Somewhere in my mind, though, I feel like I've seen him before.

Out of nowhere he lowers his head and then begins shaking it about. When he's done, using his right hand, he pulls the hair across his forehead. I can see his face much clearer now. It's not helping my heart because it just makes it beat faster.

"It's ok. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind being thrown around by a girl like you. It's actually very hot." In his voice I detect a hint of a British accent. This little feature would have made him that much more sexy if it wasn't for what his little British accent articulated.

My heart stops beating so fast. "Really?"

He winks at me. "Oh yes. I like my women rough."

I snort. "You are just one scrawny little Fabio, aren't you?"

Mr. Tea and Biscuits looks completely undeterred. "And you are a seductive red rose." he says smirking.

"Wait so if I'm a rose then are you the thorn in my side?" I look at him innocently.

"Ouch." the Brit places a hand over his heart. "But at least I'd still be inside you."

"Oh, my lord." I hold my head in my hands barely able to register the middle school innuendos coming out of this terribly attractive boy.

Biscuit chuckles from above me. "Well, my rose, I might as well introduce myself if I'm going to be so attracted to you."

I lift my head to look at him. His eyes are the lightest green.

"My name is Nick Jones." He holds out his hand.

"Ann." I answer but don't bother in raising my hand. "No way in heck am I touching you, hon."

"Reasonably understandable." he smiles a gorgeous smile at me. "So, are you in any of my classes? I think I might have seen you around the halls. I'm not really sure though. It's not that I don't care about beautiful people as yourself, I really don't pay attention to school." he nods as he says this so matter of factly. It makes me almost think he could be a sweet and innocent person.

"No. I'm new here." I answer.

"Really?" he asks, sounding positively unsure. "I could have sworn I've seen you before."

"Same." I agree, suddenly lost in thought. We both ponder this possibility for a while in silence when my eyes wander to the small mole on Nick's face. "That's it!" I say suddenly. "I saw you at the mall the other day when I was helping your friend."

Nick's eyes lighten in realization. "Ah yeah!" he high-fives me but soon looks confused once more.

"What is it?"

"I know for sure that we did see each other at the mall when Jack took that tumble-"

My mind suddenly flashes with pain, switching to another scene.

_A red apple. _

_New kid. _

_"Hi. I'm Jack."_

"- but I also remember you being in the hallways at school. I'm sure of it." Nick continues to say. I snap out of it.

"Well, Nick, I'm pretty sure today is my first day at Seaford High School."

"Alright." he says unsure. Blinking a couple of times he transforms the expression of confusion on his face back to the cocky butt-hole I was talking to earlier. "Even if you are new, Ann, maybe you'll have some classes with me today. You know, so we can get our study on in the supply closet."

I'm rolling my eyes and he's winking when I see Josh come storming up to us.

"What do you think you're doing here, Jones?" he demands angrily.

Nick must have known immediately it was Josh because he doesn't bother turning around when he says, "I'm talking to a pretty girl, McLean."

Josh grabs Nick's left shoulder and spins him around. "That's my sister. Leave her alone."

"I don't remember you ever having a sister, Joshua."

Nick doesn't receive an answer only a glare. Both boys are fuming at each other. I obviously am unaware of the boy drama that can occur.

Feeling that I should end this thing before it happens I step out of the car. "Ok boys, I know I'm irresistible and all, but I'm kind of drowning in the testosterone." I position myself in between the two. Josh doesn't take his eyes off of Nick. But Nick looks to me with another one of his award winning smiles. "I'll see you around, my rose." he winks as he leaves, bumping shoulders with Josh along the way.

I stare up at my best friend's face as his marble like features don't move from the spot where Nick was standing moments before.

"Man, what do guys talk about at sleepovers?"

Josh looks at me for a second before shaking his head. He places a guiding hand on my back and walks me into school. Handing me a sheet of paper he says, "Here's your schedule."

* * *

**Ann McLean**

**Seaford High Hallways**

**January 2**

**8:30 AM**

Being a good student and a horrible friend, Josh ditched me as soon as we stepped into the school. He gave me some lame excuse before shooting off down the hallway. The hallway was mostly empty since we had about four minutes before the bell would ring. I didn't mind being a little late so I took my time getting to my locker. Probably because I was new I got several stares from people. That was understandable. What was weird was that some of the people looked absolutely shocked that I was there. Did Seaford not get many new students?

It seems a little outlandish. Nick didn't make a big deal of it when he learned that I was new here.

Finding my locker only a little ways past the stairs I twist in my locker combination. I give it a yank and the door swings open with a clatter. Inside are several shelves. On the top-level are all the textbooks I need lined neatly one against each other. I kneel on the freshly waxed floor with my white canvas backpack positioned in front of me. Taking out some of the binders that I got when I went school shopping I stack them below the textbooks. I grab my miscellaneous folder out of my backpack before shoving the bag inside so it rests at the very bottom of the sea-blue locker.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of a girl with dark mahogany hair opening up the locker next to mine. She doesn't even glance over at me.

The bell has already rung, so I grab the textbooks I need for the day. Turning to my right the brunette turns to her left and we ram into each other. Again I feel like someone smack in the middle of some cliché movie and this is when I either meet my new best friend or my arch-enemy.

"Sorry." I mutter nervously as we collect our books.

She nods curtly. We have everything collected so we stand back up. But she's holding my miscellaneous folder staring at it intently.

"Um..." I say.

"Oh yeah. Here's your folder ba-" she extends her arm to give it to me. Her eyes travel up her arm, past my folder with my name written in Sharpie on the front, and to my face. A sharp intake of breath is audible from the girl in front of me. Is she crying?

"Are you alright?" I ask cautiously.

She whimpers. Shoving my folder into my arms she runs off down the hallway. The unknown girl is gone before I can even attempt to chase after her.

My first period class is art.

When we were walking toward the school, Josh was looking over my schedule. He told me I was lucky to have art class first period. Apparently the course was new; it had been added at the beginning of the year. He told me the teacher, Ms. Loran, was easygoing and let you do whatever you wanted as long as it was relevant to art. I'm not really sure how honed my art skills are, so this should be pretty interesting.

I am met with an unusual smell when I entered the classroom. It was a mixture of burnt crayon, tomatoes, and fresh pine trees.

I involuntarily heaved a little.

"Don't worry, you get used to it after a month."

I glance to my right with a smirk of appreciation at the person's attempt to make me less uncomfortable. "Helpful information. Duly noted."

"I'm Ann." I say, turning full on to look at the person. He's about the same height as me, which is pretty short. He's a stocky African-American with a sweet smile.

"Name's E—." He stops short when he turns to look at me. "Oh my gosh." The sweet smile slides off his face to be replaced with utter horror. "I've gotta go Kim- uh- Ann."

He doesn't say anything else. I wonder what's wrong with me as I watch him rush away with his hand over his mouth.

This has happened to me twice in ten minutes. What is going on?

The beginning of a headache is clear.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them again I look around the room I've just entered. The room is fairly spacious. There are two floor to ceiling windows at the end of the room making it seem as if the whole wall wasn't even there. There's another door on the wall adjacent with a smaller, but equally impressive, window beside it. Long hefty wooden tables stretch across the room. Stools sit underneath in disorderly rows.

Like the typical art studio most everything has some sort of paint splatter on it. A few kids are already at their seats so I sit at a table farthest from everything. I don't want to attract attention after what just happened.

I sneak a glance at the boy. I'm surprised to find him staring at me, it's in complete fear nonetheless, but his expression also seems sad. I pull myself away from his glance when someone strides in.

It's him. The boy from the mall.

My mind sears.

_Red apple._

_Cool._  
_  
New kid smell._

_Jack.  
_  
I have this urge to walk up to him and meet this mysterious boy that's rested in my mind for so long. But at the same time, I want to shrink into my seat. There's something about Jack that seems off, dark almost.

Behind the tall boy comes, what I assume, is Ms. Loran. Despite her small heeled shoes she is still slightly taller than Jack. Her hair is a dirty blonde color put up with a pencil. She sports a simple blue shirt and a long patchwork skirt. Eclectic you could call it. She's young; about 25 or so.

"Hello class!" She spreads out her arms to her students as Jack sits down.

Typical teenagers, no one says anything in return; they're either focused on their phones or each other.

"I was checking my email last night," the teacher continues on anyway. "And it seems as if we have a new student."

Oh no.

"Ann McLean, come on up to the front why don't you?" She finds me easily sitting alone in the very back and waves me forward.

Now everyone's attention is on me.

_No! Go back to your phones dammit._

Ugh.

When I get up front Ms. Loran asks me to say something about myself and I choke. But somewhere I think I hear a small voice. It's telling me to focus. So I do. I focus. I focus on the first thing that I see. And that is Jack.

"My name is Ann, not short for Annie or Annabeth or anything so complicated." I say with a nervous chuckle.

At the sound of my voice Jack looks up at me.

For the third time this morning I watch the color drain from someone's face. In this case at the same time the melanin disappears, the cool chocolate-brown of his eyes darken and harden. And unlike the horror and sadness in the expression of the other two people I met the look in Jack's face is anger. Complete anger.

"Ann?" Ms. Loran interjects into our staring contest. "Do you have anything else to say?"

"No." Is the response. But it's not my voice saying it. "_She _has nothing else to say." The brunette shoves his stool back as he stands up. The seat falls over but be pays no attention to it.

"Jack sit back down." There's sternness in the teacher's voice. The carefree is gone.

The tall boy ignores her and fumes out.

Out in the hallway something clatters to the ground.

Looking to the rest of the class all eyes are wide and looking to me, except for the one boy I met in the doorway. Ms. Loran is looking to me as well.

"I-I'll go talk to him." I mutter.

"I think that's best. But don't come back if there's going to be more riots in the classroom."

I sigh in response. Great. Now even the nicest teacher is weary of me.

I rush out into the hallway in search of the angered boy. There is some part of me that feels almost annoyed, another part desperate, and the most dominant part is scared.

It doesn't take too much effort to spot Jack. He's standing down the opposite hall, as far away from the classrooms as possible kicking the wall.

Gingerly, I step closer. "Jack, are you ok?"

He turns on me. "How do you know my name?" He demands.

"Uh," I falter when he narrows his eyes at me, "Your friend Nick told me."

He nods. "Figures."

My head snaps up to look at him. The annoyed part of me has taken over. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Jack looks absolutely floored at this point. "Oh you have _no_ right to snap at me! None at all. You're not supposed to be here. You're not real! Go away! Leave me ALONE!" He shouts. A few of the teachers glance out the window in their doors but in seeing what appears to be just a stupid fighting couple they retreat from the glass.

I stand there unsure what to do other than feel hurt and beside myself. "What did I do to make you so mad?" I whisper. I'm not positive he heard me until he closes his eyes.

"_You're_ here and she's not." he growls. Then, spinning on his heel, he goes out the door that's at the end of the hallway.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay first off I want to thank all of you who gave me songs to listen to ; it was great discovering all the different tastes in music. Continue to send as many as you want to my ****_inbox _****and I'll be glad to check them out. I'm thinking of asking you guys for something else next chapter. But before we get to the next chapter, why don't we talk about this chapter. Did you like it? Comment your thoughts and reactions! **

**Emma**


	7. Twilight Zone

**Author's Note:**

**Here come the thanks!**

**Guest, .3705, Morganann0705, Misslulu2020, Guest, .9, Guest, Kacie M, KarateGirl77, Guest, Mnash123, Cantslowmedown22, Swagmasterlol, Guest28**

* * *

By the time lunch rolls around I still have no idea where Josh is. He's not in the cafeteria sitting with his friends and when I asked if anyone could sit outside and eat I am met with a chilled look and a trite 'no'.  
I, for now, render my search useless. I dig out some money as I join the lunch line. Several utterances on how lucky the newbies are because they didn't have to deal with Marge the Lunch Lady's cooking pass through my hearing range.

I didn't understand what they were talking about. The smell of the creamy golden Mac and Cheese and the side of broccoli wafted easily into my nose. Grabbing a tray, a middle-aged lunch lady smacks a glob of the macaroni on my tray. As I move down the line another lunch lady places a plastic container of the green vegetables and a diet coke on the designated sections. At the end of the line I pay for everything and in a flourish I'm on my way; up against my newest challenge: finding a seat.

Despite my confidence, I really don't want to be the new kid who sits alone with no one to talk to. So I search for that one almost too friendly face.  
Nick.

Sifting through the sea of faces I find myself noticing the obvious cliques grouped together like a glaring of cats. There's the popular jocks and cheerleaders sitting draped in each other's arms in one corner, the well-known artsy kids in another, the obvious high on life kids in the middle of it all, and the kids that are just plain high in the darkest nook. In my mind the other students rest under 'the unwashed masses' label. But none of those people are Nick.

Dread settles at the bottom of my stomach as I begin the walk of shame across the cafeteria to the only empty table. Even from where I was standing I could see the wads of gum.

Someone save me please!

"Ann! Is that you?"

I whip around in joy; yes! Someone I know, or who at least knows me.

Standing a few feet away from me is a familiar tall boy wearing a shirt with an unknown band name labeled across the chest. His smoky grey eyes cut the distance between us. I grin.

"Adam?" I say happily. He nods. "Wow! When I'd said that maybe I'd see you again I didn't think it would actually happen."

He lets out a low chuckle and walks toward me. Half of the cafeteria is looking at the two of us.

"They say it's a small world out there." He gives me a brilliant smile.

I furrow my eyebrows. "How'd you know it was me from behind?"

Before he can answer, another voice cuts in. It's distinctly British.

"_You_ have an ass that no one can miss."

I can practically_ hear_ the smirk in Nick's voice.

I look at the curly-haired menace with a quirk of my eyebrow. Beside him Adam shakes his head in amusement.

"I'm so sorry for my friend. He's a little _overly confident._" Adam emphasizes the last two words by looking pointedly to Nick.

"Oh don't apologize for me Addy," The boy retorts, inevitably receiving a glare, "we have already been introduced: hello there my rosé."

The corner of my mouth rises in a sarcastic smile, "Thorn." I say in acknowledgement of Nick's antics.

"Still feisty I see." He winks at me and, playing my part, I roll my eyes.

"You know it's great seeing you again Ann and I'd love to stand here watching Nick ogle you, but our friends are waiting."

My happy demeanor falters. "Oh, right." I say, downcast. Adam and Nick are both attractive with amazing personalities. They probably have friends and girls hanging off their every word. "I'll let you guys go then." I say, looking down at my lunch.

"Please, do you really think we're that rude?" Nick chirps.

"What?"

Adam rolls his eyes. "You're coming to sit with us of course!" He exclaims excitedly. "That's the whole reason Nick sent me in here."

"Nick, you wanted me to sit with you?" I sound purely stunned.

He spreads his thin pink lips wide in the cheesiest grin. "Anything to be the thorn in my rose's side."

Both boys take two steps toward me and then turn around. We are now in a straight row facing the outside exit of the cafeteria. There are two large, wide windows on either side of the door and I can see a blonde haired boy wearing sunglasses sitting lazily at a lone.

"We're going outside?" I question.

"Yup." Adam replies from my right.

"Then how come when I asked if anyone could eat outside they told me no?"

"Because they are mere peasants." Says the voice from my left.

I think we're in sync when Adam and I both roll out eyes. Gosh, I've gotta get used to Nick's ways or I'm literally not going to be able to see straight.

Out on the green expanse the air is chilled and windy. My arms are thankful for their woolen cover as they tense in the temperature they weren't prepared for. The two boys leave my side to sit with the blonde who's been silent this whole time. I follow suit. I put my tray of food an the table before plopping onto the blue hole covered bench.

Nick starts poking his fair-haired friend. Adam turns his attention to me.

"The Strokes." He says.

"Huh?" I'm confused. The fork with my macaroni and cheese on it pauses in front of my lips.

"The Strokes," he repeats, "What do you think of them?"

I nod vigorously. "Love."

A huge smile spreads across Adam's face.

"The Killers?"

I close my eyes as I relish the _delicious_ macaroni and cheese resting on my taste buds. I would have never thought school lunches could be this good. Swallowing, I turn to the grey eyed boy. "Fantastic." A double meaning laces my answer.

"Where have you been all my life?" He says unexpectedly, clasping my fork free hand in his cool one. I feel my heart pump faster; pumping blood that's running straight to my cheeks.

I glance down at our hands before taking another bite of my amazing lunch. Adam lets go.

"Ok," he says, "I have to know if you are my true music soul mate. What do you think about One Direction?"

I finish chewing my food. As the time slowly passes Adam begins to lean away from me; scrunching his eyes in worry.

"Nope." I reply. A sigh of utter relief escapes the boy in front of me. Nick stops poking his friend, who has now begun to move, to look at me defensively.

"What do you have against my boys?" He demands.

I pop a small piece of broccoli in my mouth. Oh my god did they put a cheese sauce on these things? It's amazing! "I have nothing against them. They're all hot and they can sing well enough. I'm just not into that type of music." I shrug. Adam looks to me in complete pride. Nick has an enigmatic smirk on his face.

"You think I'm hot?" He asks me with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't say that."

"_I_ am Harry Style's twin." Nick cooes doing the swift hair flick. "If you call Harry hot then you basically tell me I'm sizzling as well."

I raise my eyebrows. "Okay." I say refocusing on my yummy broccoli. Jeez isn't that an oxymoron.

"Y'know, if you don't like 1D, then you probably didn't like Ricky when he was mega-famous." The supposed Harry Styles twin comments.

"Who's Ricky?"

He turns to the boy next to him with an evil grin. He then begins jabbing the blonde incessantly with his index fingers.

"For fuck's sake would you please stop!" The blonde explodes, ripping his sunglasses off his face.

Ricky looks irritably to his curly haired friend who wears a sheepish smile and says, "I was trying to get you to meet our newest lunch buddy: Ann." The Brit holds his hand out to me.

Ricky follows the gesture to my face. He sits there observing my features when his mouth opens suddenly. He leans forward and I see disbelief in his dark eyes. In one swift movement he leans back, steps out of the bench he was sitting on, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

I poke at my food.

"That was odd." Nick says unnecessarily. Adam nods beside him while I avert eye contact.

"What the _hell_ is she doing at our table?"

All three of us snap our attentions to the lanky brown haired boy before us. The single mole on each of his cheeks are prominent from the scowl that's on his round face. We can all tell he has a vice-like grip on his lunch tray. I stay absolutely quiet.

For the second time I'm afraid. But I'm also extremely sad and partly annoyed. Am I bipolar?

"Dude, calm down. I asked her to eat with us." Nick offers sincerely. Jack just grows more agitated. He strides to the table and smacks down his tray between Adam and I. Some of the sauce from the broccoli splashes on my face. Adam silently hands me a napkin.

"Thanks." I whisper.

"No!" Jack yells. "Don't be nice to her! This isn't fair! You," he points to me, "need to leave. NOW!"

Out of the corner of my eye I see most of the people in the cafeteria has gathered around the windows. When I turn my body back to Jack his face is mere inches from mine and he's breathing heavily.

My eyes are wide but I don't move. The other two guys glance back and between us waiting for what's gonna happen next.

Without warning, Jack grabs me roughly by the shoulders. Adam and Nick jump up in protest.

"Let go of her." Someone says. Each syllable is clearly pronounced. But it's not anyone at the table that speaks.

Nick's eyes harden. "Go away McLean. We can handle this."

"Yeah sure, bud. But she's my sister, and your _friend_ is about to crush her." The person snaps.

"Josh?" I query, twisting my body around to view my technical brother looking at me with worry.

"You alright Ann?" He asks me.

"I will be when Jack _lets go_," I jerk my shoulders to the side and my shoulder comes free of the strong grip, "of me."

I see Adam and Nick look to me in wonder. Maybe wondering why I could be so cool after that. But honestly, I'm way more agitated than scared. This second feeling thing has been happening a lot lately. It's like a underlying skin showing through and I can't help it. I'm not sure how I feel about this; needless to say.

I roll my shoulders around to loosen them before I turn on Josh. "Where have you been? I was looking for you at lunch."

He doesn't answer me or even acknowledge my question. Instead he walks up to Jack. Poking him in the chest he speaks slowly, "Don't ever grab Ann like that again. And you," he spins around to face Nick who was just about to retort, "Don't tell me to go away when it comes to my sister."

Josh shoves his hands in his pocket nodding. Without another word he strolls into the cafeteria, past the viewers at the window, and out of sight.

Everyone is absolutely quiet. But then I hear something unbelievable.

"Sorry."

It's faint; barely a whisper but I can hear it.

Looking at Jack I feel the heat rising to my face not out of embarrassment but out of sheer annoyance.

"What was that?" I snap with a hand cupped around my ear.

Jack sighs in aggravation. "I _apologized_.

I stare at him; at his brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and the mole on each cheek. I suck in a breath.

"Well isn't everything just fucking grand! After yelling at me twice and then nearly assaulting me I'm repaid with a 'sorry'."

"It's not like I wanted to say that!" Jack retorts. I throw my hands up to the sky.

"Then why the hell did you?" I demand, stepping closer. I can see out of my peripheral vision Adam and Nick whispering.

"Because I'm trying to be a decent person and accept this insanity!"

"What insanity? This isn't the Twilight Zone Jack!"

"_You're_ not supposed to be here!" He hollers.

I cry out in exasperation. "_Why_ do you keep saying that?!"

"Because," he pokes me hard in the shoulder making me stumble back. "You. Are. Too. Much. Like. Her." With each word he pokes me over and over again.

Nick and Adam slowly approach their friend to make sure nothing too far happens.

"Yo! Jack! What are you doing out here we can hear you in the hallways."

From the cafeteria door a tall boy wearing a dark purple beanie strides over to us. He hasn't noticed me as he's looking worriedly at Jack who hasn't turned around to greet his friend.

"Hola? Hello? You there amigo?" The new kid taps Jack on the shoulder. When he doesn't respond he turns to the thing that Jack's looking at: me.

"Ah, hello there. The name's Jerry." He sticks out his hand. Taking it I say, "Ann. My name's Ann."

When I speak Jerry looks up at me inquisitively. His eyes rove over my face. "No way."

I grow self-conscious. "Is there something wrong?"  
"No," he smiles. "Nothing is wrong at all." He breathes before hugging me tight.  
I feel a jolt when touches me, but I'm so confused.  
"She's _not_ her."  
"Don't be so blind of course it's her."  
To this Jack lets out an exasperated cry and storms into the cafeteria. He angrily shoves past the students viewing at the window. I turn to Jerry; my eyebrows are furrowed in agitation and I have my hand on my hip.  
"Can somebody tell me what's going on? What have I done to make everyone so damn emotional?" I demand. The feeling in the pit of my stomach is not pleasant; it's almost desperate like. Embarrassing is what it also is because I just really want to stomp my foot like a four-year old.  
Somewhere in the background of my thoughts I hear a haughty sigh. The next thing I know, Adam has taken the crook of my elbow into the palm of his hand and is leading me through the cafeteria door, through the students, and down the hallway. Before I can open my mouth to ask where we were going, I'm halted in front of a glass case. It's pretty massive with four long shelves. Trophies line each level ranging from bronze to gold. There's even a minuscule spelling bee trophy tucked in between two of the biggest awards. The rank of any of them didn't seem to matter as all the trophies were shined to the point of reflection.

"Why am I here?" I finally ask, twisting my neck to the right to view an unnervingly stoic Nick Jones.

Someone lightly takes hold of my shoulders and steers me toward the wall next to the award case. Four or five framed pictures line the wall vertically.

"Jack Brewer was not our friend three years ago." A British accent exclaims. "He belonged to a group of innocent misfits. Our pal Jerry was one of them—"

"I wouldn't call myself innocent. . ."

Ignoring the Latino he continues, "Adam and I only knew _of_ Jack. But then his friend went missing. Apparently they were having a fight only hours before she vanished and when he found out he snapped. Jack didn't talk to any of his original friends other than Jerry after that."

"That's horrible." I tell Nick. I feel a sliver of guilt in the pit of my stomach. "But what does this have to do with me?"

Jerry steps into view on my right. He points to one of the pictures on the wall. Peering closer I see that it's a picture of a group of students. Immediately, I pick out Jack, who has a lot more hair, and Jerry, who has a lot less hair. They're laughing with a scrawny boy with brownish-red hair, the short kid from first period art, and—

"Holy shit." I breathe.

"Yep," Jerry says. "That's her; the girl who went missing _three years ago_. Her name's Kim Crawford."

My neck grows hot and the heat spreads across the paleness of my cheeks to the bottom of my eyelids. Small tears leak out. They glide down my face over and over and over again.

"It's me." I whimper, before sinking to the ground.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Cheeses crust I freaking suck at updating on a regular basis. Sorry. But here's the chapter with a big revelation at the end. Ooooh. Oh and for my amusement, send me jokes, pick up lines, or even ideas for theof a future chapter written.) BUT IF YOU WANT TO SEND ME THIS STUFF PLEASE SEND IT TO MY INBOX. Thank you!**

**P.S If you have questions, inbox me as well.**


	8. Puzzle Pieces

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* * *

**Ann McLean?**

**Seaford High**

**January 2**

**2:13 PM**

"Three years ago Marsha and Ed McLean found me by the side of the road." I say to the stray thread hanging off my shirt. "I-I was bleeding from an injury on my head so they took me home and called a doctor. He fixed me up and then asked me questions that I found I couldn't answer."

I take a risk and glance at the group of boys surrounding me. All of them look sympathetic except for Jerry. He looks worried. No one says anything.

"I've, um, tried to remember what happened that night but its like trying to remember a fleeting dream. I figured that since I had such a small chance of remembering I'd go ahead and go to school again; meet some friends. I didn't expect the drama. I mean, how could I? Then Jack's so mean to me, the stares from the other students are torturous, and now you're saying I knew these people?" My voice cracks and I place my hand over my mouth. I find that if I just keep blinking I'll continue to breath steadily.

A large hand covers mine. I peer through my eye lashes. It's Adam that's looking back. "I'm so sorry."

I take a minute than say, "Answer me this, this other girl that's asleep inside me- I can feel her old emotions when I talk to you; like sunlight through a prism. I feel utterly depressed when I see this picture and when I try to think about who I was before. What happened before I disappeared?" I look to Jerry in particular as he was supposedly my best friend. He was leaning forward while listening to my story for all the details. But now he straightens his posture; pulling away from my glance.

"It, ah, was in the newspapers." The Latino says. He clears his throat. "Car crash."

In hearing this the other boys look to Jerry with caution in their eyes. Something's wrong.

"You were with your parents and it was the beginning of winter break and you were headed back to Tennessee, your home state, to see your grandparents when— you crashed." Jerry folds in his lips and furrows his eyebrows. He averts his eyes from mine.

Before I even go to ask, he answers in barely a whisper. "Your parents died, Kim, I'm so sorry."

I curl against the wall as I begin crying again.

Now I don't want to find out who I am anymore. This _Kim Crawford_ doesn't have a family and her friends think she's deader than Romeo and Juliet in Modern Warfare. What's the point if there's nothing for her out there?

"Ann it's going to be ok. We'll help you through this."

Through my veil of hair I can tell that it's Adam speaking and I just cry even harder.

In my new Ann-life I have fabulous people like Adam in my life. I even appreciate Nick. They make my current self happy. So I shouldn't want to make it alright with Jack or the kid in my first period art.

But I know I do. We _Homo sapiens_ can't resist trying to solve a puzzle for proof of self worth. And I can't help but wonder what good things I'm missing from my past.

But I know to do this I have to talk to Jack Brewer. This won't be easy. So for now I just continue to leak the waters of self-pity. _  
Jack's POV "I'm absolutely positive it's her. Except for the fact that her hair's brown and her name is different it has to be her."

"Alright, Alright, fine I believe you. But without facts or evidence it's could just be a different girl with a creepy God-given resemblance."

"You and your evidence shit is getting on my nerves."

"Oh, Jack. You are perfectly aware of my discomfort for swearing."

"Sorry. Is your boyfriend done meditating or whatever?"

"He's doing Tai Chi. But yeah here he is."

"Thanks Julie, talk to you later."

Julie hums out a high-pitched 'mmhmm' before I hear the air against the phone as she hands the receiver (Yes, receiver as they refuse to get cellphones) to Milton Krupnick a person I haven't talked to in years. Three to be exact.

"Jack?" Milton queries into the phone. I pull back my cellphone and look at its surface; there's nothing wrong. But apparently in a three year span of time puberty had caught up with gangly Milton.

"Yeah, same as ever."

"Bull." He says blatantly. My eyebrows raise.

"How's _Swathmore_?" I ask.

"Swathmore." He says simply.

I roll my eyes. Milton and I lost contact the year Kim went missing. The tragic news of her parents and her disappearance shook him. I'm pretty sure I had some affect on the matter but I didn't care. Before I knew it he'd switched into the snooty, cotton mouthed school for J. E. R. K. s. You know the acronym. Julie had followed suit. They were to perfect for each other to be split apart by different schools. Over the past week I began calling them at their dorms — yes they live together — to apologize and catch up. It's been awkward. But now the awkwardness needed to be gone because I had a crisis that needed a rational mind. I told Milton everything and heard nothing through my speech.

"That's not possible." He replies blandly.

"Yes it is." I insist. "I," The doorbell interrupts my thought, "hold on."

I press my phone against the fabric of my jeans and walk towards the front door. Through the peephole I see the Kim look-a-like. She's nervously pulling on the ends of her sleeves and glancing anywhere other than the door.

"Milton," I say to my raised phone, "I'll give you proof."

He grunts and I open the door.

"Say hello." I thrust my phone out to "Kim" and she puts her ear against the phone immediately.

"Hello? Who is this?" After a moments pause her eyebrows furrow so I pull back the device and replace it against my head.

"You believe me now?" I ask with a smirk fully aware that he can't see me.

"Fuck you." He says before the line goes dead.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Yeah short filler chapter, sorry. Working on the next one with more development and a conversation, FINALLY, between Jack and Ann- I mean Kim. Jeez this is confusing. My relatives are coming in tomorrow and then I'm going to Maryland on Monday or Tuesday so definitely expect a longer wait. But to ease your anxiousness or whatever I will be posting a new story in a few minutes. Counting Sheep will still be my number one priority though. **


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